The Toy Soldier
by EveThePsych-o
Summary: How Carlton found out ... because of a toy soldier. One Shot. Season 5, Episode 16. Yang in 3D.


Head Detective Lassiter moved smoothly through the Spencers' garden, him and his collegues guiding a tightly bound Yang through the area. Leaving the blue police bus behind them, they saw the white and red colored, small house looming over them and entered it. Lassiter couldn't help but shake his head to release himself of some of his nervousness and stress. All his muscles were tightly tensed, ready to pull the trigger of his gun, all the way to the house.

He just didn't understand what Spencer expected from this, other than the huge risk of Yang breaking free and being set loose once again. What made that guy so sure she was going to help them find Allison?

Grumbling inwardly he and Detective O'Hara led Yang into a small room upstairs which was full of childrens' toys. A comparatively huge bed stood right under the window, with both Spencers and Guster standing around it, looking at them. The bed was covered in a blue, patterned duvet on which a Yin-Yang-sign was handdrawn in red paint.

Lassiters' eyes didn't leave the the highly dangerous serial killer they had brought in here. He wouldn't loose her right under his nose, not for this. Yang, in her stupid pink dress and the patterned jacket, her black, curly hair clipped back, was looking around curiously, taking in the bedroom of her unearthly obsession.

"Wow," she said. "So this is where it all began. Boyhood nights under the covers with a flashlight making shadows on the ceiling dance, counting the lambs while you drifted off to sleep." Lassiters' shoulders tensed once again, watching closely how she walked over to the younger Spencer. "Oh, I wish I could go back in time, and pinch those chubby little cheeks..." She tried to pinch his cheek, but he backed off a little, clearly not comfortable with her being in his personal space.

Granted, Lassiter wouldn't be either. That woman was creepy as hell.

"And tell you nothing will be okay." Spencer looked a little peeved at that, while Yang smiled softly and turned around, again starting to look around and take in the sight.

The head detective gritted his teeth. He wanted this to be over, to bring Yang back to jail, let Yin join her and leave them rotting there. What was it with that woman and Shawn Spencer? She really was sick.

Lassiters' hand moved to his gun and he spit out, "Start talking, Yang, or it's back to the rubber room." He wouldn't mind to drag her out of here and leave some lasting injuries when she struggled.

Of course, Guster and Spencer had to speak up too.

"What does Lassie think this is, Shutter Island?" Guster whispered to his best friend, looking at the detective weirdly.

"Either that or Tootsie," Spencer answered, eyes following Yangs' every movement.

Yang looked back at Carlton and raised her hands to allay the detectives' suspicion. It wasn't worling good, but he decided to give her another chance. This was their only lead after all. "Okay, okay," she said. "Don't get your 1950s boxers in a twist, Carlton. Come on, Shawn, let's do this together."

The detainee started to walk to the other side of the room, looking at the bed and smiling. "Hmmm...you must've cared a lot about this girl to let her sleep in your bed. Does your lover know?" She looked back and grinned coyly at the psychic. Lassiter was taken aback by the surprised and embarrassed look on Spencers' face, although the other man tried to cover that up quickly.

"I haven't taken a lover, okay?" Spencer rushed out. "Besides, my dad made the sleeping arrangements." He waved to the older Spencers' direction who just rolled his eyes.

Yang cackled amusedly. "Oh, and they call me the sick one?" She looked at the bed again. "The girl wasn't dragged out of here, she was lifted out. Was she drugged?" She looked questioningly at the two detectives.

"CSI said they found an alcohol swab," Carltons' partner offered, seeming a little bit distracted. Carlton narrowed his eyes.

"So, he was gentle with her. Why?" He asked Yang expectantly, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible. The woman didn't answer, at a loss for words.

However, she looked at the younger Spencer who had taken a step forward. Carlton watched him a little bit confused, seeing the faraway look in the mans' eyes as if he knew something and was trying to find the right wording for it. A second later the psychic raised his hand to his temple and looked right back in their direction.

"Something different about this one. She's special." He said, sure of the answer. Carlton frowned, but didn't question the hazy answer.

"Exactly, Shawn." Yang said appreciatively. "See how well we work together?"

"So, maybe he won't kill her?" Guster asked hopeful.

Yang shook her head. "Oh, no, he is definitely going to kill her. He's just got something special planned. Something fit for a grand finale." She turned back, facing the whole room.

Carltons' partner spoke up again. "So where would he have taken her from?"

Yang looked down for the second, shrugging. "Sadly, I have not been in contact with Yin. Surprise, surprise, he hasn't visited me during my incarceration." She showed her cuffed arms to the room.

Lassiters' gaze snapped back to her and he took a step forwards. "Then why the hell did we bring you here?" His voice sounded threatening, just how he talked to criminals, but for some unknown reason the woman did not even flinch.

Rather she tilted her head and smiled at Spencer, fascinated. "Because Shawn and I have a romantic history together, and I deserve to see his bedroom."

Carlton rolled his eyes and went to drag her out by her arm. "That's it. This circus is over. Let's go." What was wrong with that woman? She was literally obsessing over the psychic. Which might just be the reason why she was so weird, no-one was able to stay sane in Spencers' presence.

Yang struggled against his grip and he loosened it, hoping she'd spit out some more insights. "Okay, ow! Gosh." She huffed. "Fine. Sometimes it isn't something he leaves behind, the clue. Sometimes it's something he takes with him." Lassiters' heart dropped. How were they supposed to find out what was taken? It had probably been years since the Spencers had been in here, much less everyone else.

"Shawn." Yangs' voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked up, studying the psychics' face closely. He seemed just as lost as everyone else, deep in thought.

"What?" The psychics head snapped up and he looked surprised at the woman. Carlton frowned again when the psychic looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Lassiter prided himself on his insight in the human nature, but right now he couldn't guess at all what Spencer was thinking. Did he know something? Or did he just know she was right? What had him so thoughtful?

Spencer raised his arms and looked at the other people, incredulously. "I've been in this room twice in the last fifteen years, how am I supposed to know if something's missing?" Lassiter gritted his teeth, frustrated that for once, when they didn't need it, his suspicion had been right.

"Shawn, think." Henry spoke up for the first time, looking directly at his son. The older Spencer seemed not convinced that he didn't have a hunch what was missing. "Use your gift. Go back in time, and se- sense the way things were."

"What does this possibly have to do with Barbra Streisand?" The psychic asked.

Lassiter frowned deeply, confused why this should work. Spencer had told them countless times his psychic gift didn't work at command. And didn't he just sense the future? That couldn't be right. Henry had caught himself before saying something... se-something.

He almost doubled over as realization hit him. Spencer wasn't psychic, Carlton knew that, though he couldn't prove it. Guster had to know too. But whatever the fake psychic was, Henry knew it and he could 'go back in time' in his head. That was... impressive, if it was true. But was it true or did this mess just make himself see and hear the wrong things?

"Focus." Henrys' words where directed at his son, but they also made Lassiter snap out of his thoughts. This was huge, if it was true. Maybe Spencer really lied to them all this time.

Carlton watched the psychic closely, intent on finding out if he had heard correctly. Spencer was shaking his head, apparently reluctant to follow his fathers' advice. He hopped on his old bed, neither seeing nor caring of all the curious and expectant stares he was getting. His eyes narrowed while his gaze flitted around the room for a few seconds. The head detective watched incredulously as the psychic looked around the room before looking back to one place, suspicious.

Spencers' eyes closed and he raised his hands to his temple, just how he did when he had a psychic vision. But was it really a vision - or a memory? Carlton really needed to stop thinking about conspiracy theories surrounding Shawn Spencer.

"One of my army men. It's facing the wrong direction." The psychic pointed at the desk behind Carlton, making him look down at it with surprise. How could he possibly have remembered the exact way- he had to be psychic. Henry and Guster looked at each other, a mutual understanding passing between them. The smile they had after that - that was pride. Carlton knew that.

_Go back in time._ Damnit, Henry. The psychic really was a fake.

Shawn followed the direction the army man pointed in with his weapon. It was a small shelf with a glass door, records stacked behind it. "My vinyl? It's pointing at my vinyl." He knelt down right before the records and started going through it. "Meat is Murder by the Smiths. 1984, Van Halen. Both missing." Carlton could hardly stop his jaw from dropping when he realized - Shawn could remember that _too?_

No, no, this theory was ridiculous. All those cases. Spencer couldn't have solved them just by looking and noticing small things that he and O'Hara missed. That was impossible. They never missed anything.

"Are you sure?" Juliet knelt right beside him and went through the records too, probably trying to find the one's he said were missing.

Deep down, Carlton knew she wouldn't find them.

Shawn stood up and rolled his eyes. "Of course, I'm sure, they're all in order." Carlton gritted his teeth, hoping against himself that Juliet would find the records. Proving Spencer to be a fake was supposed to be satisfying, instead of realizing the guy had just been a better detective than himself all along.

"Tears for Fears, Depeche Mode, Thomspon Twins... what order are you using?" Juliet looked at the psychic disbelievingly.

"Sweetness."

Juliet raised an eyebrow at him. "Men Without Hats is cooler than Echo and the Bunnymen?"

Yang interrupted both of them. "More importantly, where are Devo and the Talking Heads in all this?"

Shawn shook his head and looked directly at Carlton, apparently looking for confirmation. "All right, let's, let's just think about this for a second." He closed his eyes and thought so hard, Carlton could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "Meat is Murder, first track, The Headmaster Ritual. Second track-" Suddenly, he opened his eyes wide. "Wait a second. 1984 has Hot for Teacher. The Headmaster, teacher." His gaze fell away from the head detective and Carlton blinked.

There it was - his proof. It was all combinations made by Spencer himself, mixed up with a lie about supposedly psychic visions. But it weren't visions... it were memories of the smallest details and observations, made in a split second at the crime scenes and remembered for a long time.

Carlton closed his eyes, exhausted. Shawn really was a good detective... and yes, in the privacy of his head (which he now knew was _not_ invaded by certain psychics) he allowed himself to think that Spencer was an even better detective than Carlton himself.

"I am sensing this is about her teacher."

Sure thing.


End file.
